"Eh… huh… did I really become strong when I was older?" A cherubic smiling face stared up at him full of hope.

"Eh… well… that is… yes… I think…" He faltered, panicking and stuttering in the face of the expectant child.

"Yay!" The joy, the absolute joy in that little voice…

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He was slumped over the bar, a drink just in front of him as he buried his head in his arms on the table. "I'm the lowest… to a child… I…" His body shook with the guilt and shame he felt. He felt awful, rotten, the absolute lowest of the low. He barely even noticed Germany's hand kindly petting his back, the mild words of encouragement. No, all Italy really could do was repeat that moment over and over in his head. He'd lied straight to a child's face. A bold faced false as anything lie. And the worst part of it all?

He'd lied to himself.

Now quite frankly, Italy had no idea exactly how he'd just come into contact with his younger self. It hadn't been a dream… or at least he didn't think it was. It'd seemed only too real, the weight of his little child self in his arms, and here he was, dressed just the same. While Italy knew he wasn't exactly the sharpest tack in the box, he was also well aware of the fact that some things in the world simply couldn't be explained. This didn't bother him at all. Be it Grandpa Rome suddenly appearing in the ocean to sing or running into himself as a child, Italy usually just went with things.

Hey, if he couldn't explain something that was no reason to get all bent out of shape. He could roll with the unexpected with the best of them. Call it willingness to work with the universe if you wanted, or an atrocious case of naiveté. Either was fine in the Italian's book.

What wasn't fine… however… was what he'd just done. He told himself that he grew up to become strong… and it'd made the little him so very happy. His absolute depression was more than just a result of some extreme self deception. Everyone told little lies to themselves all the time, you had to. It kept you sane. For him and the other Nations, exceptionally long lived as they were, they were no doubt doomed to go mad if they always looked at their own situations and dealings with only the truth in their eyes.

The worst part of his lie, though, was that it hurt. It struck at one of Italy's greatest insecurities… the perception (no… the fact?), that he was weak. Useless. If his child self saw him in action, would he be disappointed? Was he disappointed in himself for that matter?

He let out a wail and curled further onto the counter of the bar, as if he could curl up and implode and just stop existing in such a useless state. Germany's hand gave his back another little pat, and then with much hesitation, started to rub tiny circles on it. Sniffing and sniveling, Italy tried to compose himself as he cast a tear streaked gaze to his friend and ally.

"Hey… hey… Germany… am I… strong?" His voice wavered and his lip trembled as he spoke. He looked an absolute mess, but Italy had never been terribly concerned about looking proper in public.

The hand that'd been rubbing those soothing little circles jerked back abruptly, a look of clear discomfort scrunching onto the blond's face. A slight redness hit Germany's cheeks and blue eyes shifted to look to the side. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out with the hesitation of someone attempting to say something very diplomatic.

"You… that is…" As the German fumbled for the words, the Italian's mind decided to jump to what seemed to be the obvious conclusion. Collapsing back down, Italy buried his face into his arms again, feeling even worse and more dejected than before.

"Ve~" He wailed, body shaking in his anguish. "I'm terrible, terrible!" His insecurities piled higher and higher, weighing down onto his shoulders heavily. To an extent, the drinks he'd been having here at the bar were certainly a factor in the sudden mood dive, but Italy was an emotional individual by nature. His sunny disposition could just as easily be replaced by negative emotions, no matter how many people forgot or just brushed it off as him being a crybaby.

"Italy, listen to me…" His friend was trying to cheer him up, even if his voice was just as deep and professional as ever, and that made Italy feel even lower. He knew he wasn't the strongest, he knew he was pretty darn useless in wars and battles and… god everything! But at the very least he'd prided himself on being the unofficial pep squad for his friends and allies! Having Germany, who did so much for him anyway, suddenly feel the need to cheer him up like this? The worst the worst the worst!

"I have to fix this! Ve… there has to be a way!" He sat up straight, almost of the mind to flail his arms about in his sudden urgency to right this wrong he'd done to himself. But how could he make this lie better? It wasn't like he could just go back in time and…

"That's it that's it!" The Italian plowed forward with his words, never giving the blond at his side any time at all to offer words or advice. "I have to go back in time Germany! I have to go back in time and stop myself from lying…" The Italian trailed off, a new thought coming to mind. Maybe instead of doing that… instead of stopping the lie… maybe he could go back and actually become strong? Do things differently? The idea seemed to roll about in his mind for a moment.

"I can go back in time and become stronger! Germany Germany I can get stronger!" He all but bounced up and down on his seat in his excitement, tears drying on his cheeks as hope and vigor replaced his depression. While he wasn't really a fan of rigorous training, it wouldn't be like he'd be the one doing it, right? He'd just go back in time and encourage his past self to work harder… so that in the future he'd already be strong and good. It'd be like avoiding all the work by having his old self do it!

Faulty logic stood no chance against Italy's mind, and he was positively beaming away at his idea.

An exasperated look crossed Germany's face, nothing terribly out of the ordinary for a visit between the duo, and he let out a drawn out sigh, as if he didn't even know where to start. "Italy… I don't think—"

The exuberant auburn haired nation cut him off, riding the high of his 'good' idea. "Just think about it Germany! If I go back and make myself stronger we might have won! Maybe maybe the whole world would be different now!" The thought of bitter defeats, of temporarily soured relations between their nations… maybe if Italy had been stronger from the start… maybe just maybe… "Who knows what the world could be like now!"

The thought was exhilarating, and the sheer idea of it all seemed to feed the side of him that was a Nation. It seemed to enthrall that side of him, please it, and fill it with a strong desire. That side of him… of course it would long to be more powerful, of course it would long for victories to replace defeats.

He missed the look of worry that passed over Germany's features. Perhaps Italy didn't understand how it felt. Italy, as a country and nation, wasn't innocent. He'd had some Bosses that certainly weren't saints, he'd fought in wars… but the nation didn't have the same sort of villainous reputation that Germany knew his nation had gathered in the Second World War.

Germany knew what it was like to become a slave to the Nation side of himself, to let that side become manipulated beyond the will of his humanity. It didn't take much for an entire nation to suddenly become defined by what was only a part of it. All it took was that part taking control, rearing its head and committing atrocities. Suddenly you were just that moment, you were just that group. You were just that moment of evil, the rest of your history suddenly damned and ignored.

Oh Italy wasn't caught in anything so dire here, but Germany could see the signs, even if the Italian at his side was missing them. If Italy had been stronger… then there was so much good or bad he could have experienced…

"Come on Germany, let's go!" Suddenly drawn from his thoughts by the Italian tugging on him, Germany hesitated.

"What? Where are we going?" The Italian stopped tugging at him, a pout on his face.

"Ve? Germany wasn't listening to me! I said I was going to go to the past and make myself stronger! But I don't know how to do it again… if I just did… which I must have if I lied to myself… so so I need a time machine! So we're going to America, because he's always coming up with all these plans and stuff with giant robots or heroes or weird guns and other fun things. He must have a time machine!"

Italy sounded so very confident in the idea that Germany let the other Nation drag him along. He knew this was all a bad idea, but if he was with the Italian, then at the very least he could watch over him, protect him until this nonsense blew over and was forgotten. Besides, there was no way America would have an actual working time machine.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Ahahaha… haha… hahaha… ha… you're so silly Italy!" America's laughter seemed to resonate through his garage, bouncing off the walls and echoing, almost to the point where it sounded like there were multiple Americas laughing. Italy let his head fall to the side softly, in a mix of disappointment and confused disbelief. He watched as the American continued to laugh (nervously Germany would note), wiping off grease stained hands while subtly (or not if you asked Germany) nudging something under a giant white sheet further away.

They'd come upon the American out of the blue, for of course Italy had been far too excited with his idea to even consider calling ahead. While America's house had been locked, closed doors had never been a problem for Italy! Coming in to sleep or coming in to ask for time machines, neither act could be stopped by a mere lock so far as the Italian was concerned.

"But… it's just… I was sure you'd have one," Italy said mildly, his voice trailing off in confusion. It almost seemed that out of everything that'd happened recently, this was the one thing he couldn't seem to believe.

America continued to titter out that high laugh of his, shooting glances at a small grey alien who began pushing things back and deeper into the garage. Tony was given an oh so inconspicuous thumbs up. "S-Seriously… I mean… why would I have a time machine? I mean my history is totally awesome… got nothing in the past I'd wanna change. Nope! Not me! I d-don't regret anything I've done… haha…"

Italy frowned, apparently not at all pleased that his plan wasn't working out as simply as he'd thought it would. By his side, Germany held his tongue. While highly suspicious of the American, the German had no desire to encourage Italy's attempts at time travel. Therefore he refrained from pointing out to the American that the time machine could be used to go to the future, which the United States of America might be highly and very keenly interested in. If by some chance America actually hadn't considered using a time machine to go to the future, well, Germany certainly wouldn't be the one to plant such an idea.

Italy sagged in defeat, his shoulders slumping as his energy seemed to die away. Now how was he going to fix things? Now how was he going to go back and make himself a stronger nation? He gave America a small defeated smile, and the American actually seemed to look a bit sheepish and guilty being at the receiving end of it. "Ok… thank you anyway America…" There just had to be another way then… he'd find it. Maybe the old Italy would have just pulled out the white flag and surrendered here, but not this time! He was determined! He'd get to the past somehow!

As the two turned and walked out of the garage, a voice called out to them. When Italy turned around he noticed that America had his back to them, his shoulders all stiff. 'Maybe he's been working too hard?' Italy was about to brush it off when the American started to talk again.

"I don't have a time machine… ok? I do not have one… but ya know… if there was umm… something big? Something like… super important… you should come tell me right? Because I'm the hero, so I'd fix it ok? But I don't have a time machine… so yeah… but I am a hero… so come to me if you really need some saving."

Italy blinked a couple of times before his eyes eased into that comfortable closed rest again. Why was America making such a point to tell him he didn't have a time machine over and over? Did he really think he was going to forget so soon? And why was Germany suddenly gripping his arm so tightly and giving him such a stern look. Was Germany mad at him?

It took a few moments, but Italy got it. He plastered a smile on his face and started to lead Germany away from America's house, hugging onto the German's arm happily. "Don't worry; I'll always go to Germany for help first!" Germany flinched, but the sigh he let out and the pat to Italy's head showed that everything was ok. 'Silly Germany, thinking I'd go to America instead. But but… if I can just get to the past, then I won't have to go to anyone for help… I can help them all instead!' Oh no, the Italian certainly hadn't given up yet. He owed it to himself, after all, to succeed.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It'd been nearly a month since Germany had seen Italy, and he was more than just a little concerned about it. True, they both had plenty to keep them busy. It wasn't simple work to be a Nation, and Germany had been plenty occupied tending to his duties. Still, something inside was nagging at him. Italy had seemed so taken with his idea to go to the past, and he'd rambled over any attempts Germany had made to actually talk some sense and logic into him. The blond had been trying to make time to go check in on the Italian for a while now, and today at last he seemed able.

Knocking on Italy's door, he initially received no answer. He didn't know Italy's schedule inside and out or anything, but he'd thought the other would be home. There was nothing obvious that he knew of to draw the other Nation away at any rate.

Germany could be patient, though, and he knocked again. If need be he would wait and try the Italian again later, perhaps take in a few of the sights to pass the time. The sudden clatter of metal from within the house signaled that at least someone was inside, but Germany suddenly wondered if it would really be Italy. The sound of pots and pans he would expect, but the metallic sounds had been much louder, much more solid. His brows furrowed as he listened to footsteps come rushing to the door.

"Hello~ Sorry for the… ve? Germany? What are you doing here?" The Italian pulled the door open further, but Germany found himself stunned and rooted to the spot.

"I…taly…?" His voice was quietly incredulous. The little Italian was an absolute mess. He was dressed in mechanics overalls of all things, the clothes looking baggy and ill suited for him. Perhaps they'd been borrowed from one of his citizens… an auto mechanic? The Italian's hair was messy and covered in grease, as was the skin of his face as well. There were bandages also on the Italian, as if he'd gotten bumped and hit and accidentally cut by a myriad of tools. What was doubly worrying was that it certainly looked like Italy hadn't been eating or sleeping properly.

Italy… not eat enough? Not sleep enough? Germany shook his head to clear it and suddenly reached out, grasping Italy's shoulders firmly.

"Italy, what is going on here?" He tried not to sound angry, and failed if the volume and tone of his voice was any indication, so of course Italy seemed to take it the wrong way. The other Nation started to tremble a bit, and nervous rambling fell from his lips.

"Ve… Germany I was just… I was just trying to build a time machine for myself because I have to get to the past and become stronger! But I didn't want to bother Germany because I know you've been so busy with your government and all sorts of things! Wah… don't be mad at me… I've been doing my work like I'm supposed to too I promise!" Tears perched at the corners if Italy's eyes, ready to start falling at any moment should Germany start yelling again.

Though he almost felt like it, the German refrained. He took a deep sigh to steady his emotions, feeling what he fondly called his 'Italy headache' throbbing dully behind his eyes. On one hand, Germany was actually a little bit impressed. Not that Italy was trying to build a time machine, absolutely not. But he was impressed that the Italian had become so seriously devoted to something, was working hard on it… and wasn't neglecting his official duties to do so.

Couldn't the Italian see the implications of all of this? Couldn't he see that if he tried…

"Ve? Germany? Germany… hello Germany?" Italy started to wave a hand in front of his face. "Umm… did you need something? Because if not I should get back to work on…"

Impressed by Italy's sudden industriousness or not, Germany knew he needed to put an end to this nonsense. He should have put an end to it that day at the bar.

His eyes sharp and his features stern, Germany pulled Italy out of his house. The other Nation let out a squeak of surprise and a yelp, but as the German shut the door and started to tug Italy along, the protests died down into merely confused hums and chirps. The blond Nation explained nothing, simply pulled the auburn haired one along as they made for their destination.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Ah? Germany-san? Italy-kun? What are you two doing here?" Japan stepped aside to allow his two friends in, though not before casting a glance towards Italy's dirty clothing and appearance. He said nothing of course, not voicing his disapproval at letting the other Nation in while he was in such a dirty disheveled state. Germany made a mental note to apologize to Japan about this later. He knew how much he'd personally be bothered to have grease stains in his home, and he and Japan were not too different when it came to cleanliness.

"Pardon the intrusion Japan, we won't be long. Italy just has something to say to you." The words came out crisply, the air of authority you'd expect from the German rolling past his lips smoothly. Japan's face barely showed any sort of reaction, perhaps just a slight raising of his eyebrows. Italy on the other hand was completely perplexed.

"Ve~? I dooooo…?" Cocking his head to the side, Italy thought hard. He didn't remember having anything in particular to tell Japan, and he didn't really remember telling Germany that he had something to tell to Japan. Had he forgotten then? 'I hope I remember soon… I've been so busy with my time machine that…' Was that it? Had he planned to tell Japan about his time machine? Thinking about it, maybe he should have told Japan sooner. He was so good with technology! Of course!

He opened his mouth to bring up the topic now, but Germany cut him off.

"Yes, you do. You need to say goodbye to Japan. You're never going to see him again." If it hadn't been for how absolutely seriously Germany had delivered those words, Italy would have thought the blond nation was joking. Considering the tone of voice, Germany's posture, and the fact that Italy could probably tell the number of times Germany had joked by counting the fingers on one hand… it seemed the man was serious. For a moment all Italy could do was stand and stare at the other.

Japan frowned a little, shifting in a subtle sign of discomfort. Dark flat eyes shifted back and forth as they gazed from Germany to Italy, back and forth. "Ah… that is…" The dark haired Nation seemed torn and confused. Was Italy going somewhere? Was… something going to happen to him? Was Germany going to do something to him? Was Germany going to do something to Japan? The Asian Nation cast a glance at Italy for a moment longer before deciding the Italian had just as little idea of the situation as him. His focus returned to Germany.

"Why must Italy-kun give such a permanent farewell?" His sentiments were quickly echoed by Italy himself.

"Yeah Germany… why do I have to say goodbye to Japan?" Italy was completely distressed by the notion. Germany gauged his reaction, and nodded his head. Finally, he had Italy's attention.

"If you plan to go to the past and change things, Italy, then you need to say goodbye to us all." He locked his eyes to the Italian's (well, probably, it was always difficult to tell if Italy's eyes were open at all), measuring his response.

"But…I wouldn't go back and hurt Germany and Japan…" Germany offered a small smile, and shook his head.

"Everything has a consequence Italy. If you were to go back and change yourself that would in turn cause a chain reaction of minor differences. You would be different, you would make different choices, and others would respond to you differently. You plan to make a major change to yourself… you seem to dream about what the world could become."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Italy… if you were stronger, if your nation was stronger… there is no guarantee we would have ever become allies. Perhaps we would have been at odds in war; perhaps one of us would have conquered the other. I understand your wish to be stronger, your wish to work to erase the failures of the past… but if you change the past you will throw away everything you have now. Nothing will be the same."

Italy shook his head, not breaking eye contact but wanting not to believe what Germany was saying. "But… it could be the same… I'd try to make it the same, but better…"

"Italy-kun…" Japan said softly. He, obviously, wasn't entirely up to speed on the situation, but the theoretical effects of time travel were very much known to him. "Germany-san is correct. Though it is possible, yes, that not everything will change, the more probably result would be a rewriting of the future."

"But I would make sure, if things changed… that they would change for the better!" Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes again, his emotions unsteady. Working non-stop on the machine and neglecting food and sleep certainly didn't have the simple little Italian running at his best.

"How?" Germany's voice was almost harsh, but it wasn't unkind. "Would you stay in the past, supervise each and every event?"

Italy stared down at the ground, crestfallen. So what then… he was… he was doomed to be 'the weak one'? He was forced to be not only the butt of all the jokes, but a horrible liar as well? He glanced back up at Germany, eyes opened wide with determination. "But I told myself I grew up to be strong! I lied! I don't want to be a liar!" His voice rose in pitch and even Italy could tell he was becoming a bit hysterical about this… even for him.

Strong arms wrapped around Italy at that, pulling him into a tight bear hug. The Italian couldn't see the rather embarrassed expression on Germany's face, but he could feel the secure hold the Nation had on him. It surprised Italy, stopped his words. "Italy… you're missing the obvious answer."

The Italian blinked, trying to look up to catch Germany's eyes, but finding that his face was pretty much stuck at the man's chest, the crook of his neck at best. "Ve…?"

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, craning his head back to see Japan standing with him, offering one of those rare soft smiles of his. "Italy-kun… there is still time to become stronger."

Italy's eyes widened further, his mouth parting open slightly. He felt Germany nod against him.

"Exactly Italy. As long as you are alive, you can always grow stronger. As long as you and your people draw breath, so long as your country stands tall… you can grow stronger. You haven't lied until you stop trying. Until you decide you're weak."

Italy went still and silent, his mind racing over the simple words. He… really could get stronger… now… he could work to improve himself now. He could become someone he could be proud of… someone his younger self could be proud of. 'How… why didn't I just think of that?' Perhaps it was the alcohol that first night; perhaps it was the years upon years of being treated as a pathetic fool. It hurt to not be taken seriously, and it was terrifying to think that his apparent worthlessness could cost him friends and allies some day. In truth, a small part of him really would like a chance to go back and erase some of his less than glorious moments.

But as he started to laugh a little, he really did feel like a complete and utter fool, a true idiot. The best answer was here all along, no time machines needed! As he laughed he felt Germany's arms release him, the blond man stepping away with a fierce blush on his cheeks. Japan stood by, quiet yet still smiling. Italy wiped his eyes with an arm, wincing at the way the dirt and grease smeared on his face. "Germany and Japan are so smart! Thank you thank you~"

He lunged forward to try to wrap the pair in a hug, yet both Nations swiftly avoided his arms. Germany coughed, while a troubled expression flitted across Japan's features lightly. "Ah… Italy-kun… perhaps a bath? And… Germany-san as well… your clothes are a bit soiled now…"

Indeed, the tight hug the German had given Italy had led to the transference of grease. Germany clicked his tongue, shooting the Italian an annoyed glance. Italy laughed in that happily oblivious way of his, as if all at once all his worries were gone already. Japan gave a tiny shake of his head.

"I shall… I shall have some clothes prepared for you two in the meantime… and will make some tea…" Italy raised his hand before Japan could finish speaking.

"And I'll make pasta once I'm all cleaned up! Ve… I haven't had pasta in almost a month! Wah… Germany, I'm going to die! I haven't had any pasta!" He was answered with a strong arm grabbing his wrist and tugging him off to the bathroom. Japan watched them go, listening as their conversation became quieter and quieter.

"You never let me say it… but Italy I don't think you're… weak…"

"Veeeeee~….? You don't?"

"… your strength is… different…"

"Hey hey what do you mean…"

Japan didn't need to know the rest of the exchange. Exhaling and smiling at his silly friends, he turned to set out the simple yukata he would lend his guests and prepare the tea. He could already imagine what would happen next. Surely Germany would offer to train Italy, and most assuredly Italy would try to get out of it, despite his revelation. Some things perhaps never changed… and didn't really need to.

"Ah…" he paused, turning to go make a phone call first. "I should remind America-san not to let anyone know about that…"

What, 'that'? Of course Japan knew about that. America couldn't have built it without his help, after all. It was of course never to be used, they'd agreed to such… but of course… it never hurt to remind America. It was America, after all.

Author's note:

Ah… just a little bit of Axis fluff and friendship. This is based around a scene in episode 6 of the World Series (so what, like… episode 58 or whatnot). I don't know, I can totally see Italy jumping to the most farfetched and complicated answer to a problem.

Yep, America so totally has a time machine. (No he doesn't, you really think he could keep from using it?) No seriously, he has one. (No he doesn't.)

But really… he does. (Not).